The first thing you notice as you crack the seal beneath the yellow lid is the smell. The tinny musk that I first discovered when I stuck my nose into the canister is going strong even after sitting open for an hour and a half. The curlz glow a troubling orange, far more aggressive than the inviting orange-brown display on the package. I will give them this though; it's packed near full with very little deceitful air inside. If I'm going to eat bits of nuclear Garfield then I'm at least glad I'm getting as very much of it as I can.
The cheez curlz is an insidious thing. With the first bite into each curl, my gut droops trying to slide out of the way of the pungent tangy chemicals that pop in my mouth. I chew with a grimace. Somewhere though, between this first bite and when I swallow the orange capsule rearranges itself, the ingredients mixing together like a secret agent's cyanide pill to become something familiar. I am left with the striking and nostalgic aftertaste of Kraft's Classic "Kraft Dinner". My brain, swelling with the positive links to my childhood, forces out the details of that first bite three seconds ago. Thoroughly mind controlled, I am going back to the canister again, and again...
Closing Remark: Don't buy these unless you're three and a half months into a year's contract in South Korea and you're so desperate for a taste of home that you're considering buying the expensive import toothpaste and then eating it.
